Insanity x2 (A Trevor Philips Story)

32: Please

When I woke up, I was in my bed. I shifted before letting out a large groan. He wasn't in the bed next to me, which made me frown, but I was sure he was just in the kitchen. I got up from the bed when my head spun. My hand reached out to grasp the door frame before gasping as my world flipped perspective and blurred. My hand slipped and I landed on my right hip, my hands reached out to cushion my fall but my perspective was so off that my wrists and fingers hurt badly from the fall. "Fuck!" I cried as I leaned against the wall, head smacking the wall hard enough that I could hear the weak wall crumble just a hairline.

"God dammit Lucy," Trevor sighed. I looked up to see him with a pan on the stove, the fire tickling the bottom of the pan as he cooked what probably was eggs. It smelled like eggs. He reached down and grabbed my hands, I tried to grab his at first but I missed him by two centimeters. He picked me up from the ground and placed me at the table. 

I put my head in my hands and squeezed my eyes shut. "I'm tired of being this way."

"I made you breakfast," he spoke, surprising me. I heard the clink of ceramic in front of me and opened my eyes to see a plate on the table in front of me. Two eggs, crispy bacon, and unevenly cooked pancakes. Aw, he was so sweet. I smiled at him as he sat in front of me. "Eat up."

"Trevor, Trevor, Trevor. . . " I clicked my tongue, flashing him a playful grin. "What's your game?"

"The surgery is in a week," Trevor spoke. "I want you to be happy." 

I frowned, letting out a small groan. "Babe, the big one is in three days. Stop focusing on me. You have to be prepared," I spoke, worried eyes glued on his. "If you died, I-. . . " I shook my head with a big frown. "I wouldn't be able to live without you. I don't think I could."

He let out a soft chuckle, it was dark, and lacked humor. "Same with you." 

My heart sank. I let out a soft sigh before checking to see what he was cooking. He was trying to make omelettes, but he was failing miserably. I cracked a grin and gently pushed him aside with my hip. "Let me do this, go sit down and crack open a cold one."

"No, you're too weak to-"

I cut him off. "Wanna bet?" I teased, holding my fists up. "Put 'em up, let's go." 

This threw him off guard, he grinned and opened the fridge, taking a beer out and popping it open. He took a swig before sitting down at the dinner table, watching me nervously as I started to make a new omelette. The one he had made was so burnt, there was no way it'd be edible, and there was also no way my fire alarm would've kept quiet through another second of this burning concoction. 

"So, how's Mikey and Frank?" I asked, putting his favorite ingredients into this omelette. I was going to cook this so well he'd be watering at the mouth. My specialty was always breakfast foods.

He groaned. "They keep asking about you. They asked if they could come over tonight for dinner to talk about the big score, it's really just a front to see how you're doing. They say something's up with you."

I rolled my eyes, then turned to him with my hand on my hip. I let out a sigh. "Well, Trevor, they can come over if they want, I appreciate their concerns but I will not humor them by presenting myself too often. If I feel dizzy tonight I'll just stay in bed while you guys have the dinner table to yourselves."

I watched as his eyes glanced at the window, his lips pushing together in a tight line before he let out a small sigh. 

I frowned. "What?"

"You know what, Lucy. This is awful," He shook his head, letting out a groan. "Please, don't die," he spoke in a whisper, squeezing his eyes shut. I felt my body tense, I felt my heart fall and my sorrows rise. 

"I'll try my hardest to survive, Trevor," I spoke with a shaky voice. "But I can't promise. I wish I could."